


a runaway thief

by erasvita



Series: moss flowers [1]
Category: Those Who Went Missing
Genre: TWWM, esk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erasvita/pseuds/erasvita
Summary: origin prompt 2: losing their wayTotal word count: 1083Base Score: 21 AP (Writing: 1083 words)+50 AP (Origin Prompt)+5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)+8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)Total AP per submission: 84Base Score: 10.5 GP (Writing: 1083 words)+10 GP (Origin Prompt)+6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)Total GP per submission: 26.56
Series: moss flowers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961158





	a runaway thief

It was a peaceful day. The sun was playing hide and seek behind a cover of clouds, so that occasionally the early morning gloom was broken by brilliant pillars of light standing proudly upon the earth. The mist hanging low over the mountains looked something like a bridal veil, floating along elegantly behind her in the breeze. In the forest the first few birds were beginning to lift their voices in song.

It was a peaceful day. Or at least, it should have been a peaceful day.

But somewhere a single girl was running, barefoot and breathless, and in no time at all any semblance of peace would soon be shattered.

It hadn’t been her fault, not truly. The first time she had been starving, and it had been only a bit of burnt bread tossed out from the bakery. _It will be fine_ , Alexia had told her, _no one will miss it anyway._

But a bit of burnt bread had turned into fresh apples plucked from market stalls when the shopkeep was busy with another customer, and dried herbs hanging from barn rafters in the moonlight. So many times they had not gotten caught, and it had made them bold.

And when her younger brother grew sick, sweat coating his brow and tremors wracking his slender body, and the price of medicine was ten times what she could afford —

She told herself she didn’t have a choice. Not now, not then. She needed the money to save her brother; and she needed to escape now to get back to him. He had no one but her. 

The sharp stones and pine needles cut her feet, but the cold had long since numbed her to it. She flew through the forest, lifting her arms to cover her face each time branches and brambles raised their hands to stop her. _Even the forest won’t help me,_ she thought with despair. But there was no time for thinking, and she forced all thoughts from her mind.

There was only time for running.

And breathing.

And living.

Her footsteps were a melody lulling her into a trance. One foot after the other, the muffled sounds of her passing in the forest, the feel of the wind against her sweat-slicked face, this she could focus on. She could feel the cold morning air burning her lungs, coating her throat with a thick copper taste, but she ignored it. In through her nose, out through her mouth; she lost herself in repetition. A fallen tree blocked her path and she flew over it without pause, without hesitation, without stopping to think — there was still no time to think, only to act. A cluster of trees stood too close together for her to slip through, so she angled around them without question.

And she ran on. And on. And _on._

Her legs were growing tired, but she ran on. Her best friend, who had moments ago been running beside her, was now nowhere to be seen. Her breath came too fast and too hard to sustain. It felt like she had been running for an eternity, and all around her the forest stood cold and silent and still. And still she continued to run because of one simple rule she had pressed into her memory like daisies on a page:

Running was living. Stopping was dying. 

But it felt like there were vines wrapping around her heart, her lungs, her throat. And there were rocks hanging from her feet, weighing down her steps. And the forest that she had dreamed for weeks and weeks about disappearing into had no plans for helping her escape. It was too wild, too overgrown, too uncaring about the plight of man or woman, prey or predator. The trees, she would come to learn, cared only about sunlight and rain and soft soil to sink their roots into.

So the next time a fallen tree blocked her path, and she leapt through the air, her foot caught on its gnarled trunk. Whether she misjudged or her tired legs simply gave out, it did not matter. She was crashing to the ground.

The girl tumbled unceremoniously into the dirt, dark hair flying in a halo around her face. The skirt of her too-short leine hitched up over her thighs, so the skin of her knees scraped along the frozen ground. Her breath caught painfully in her chest. 

And when her closed fists flew open to catch herself on the ground, bits of gold flew through the air like drops of sunlight. 

“No, no, no,” she muttered, patting her hands along the forest floor. “No!” She scooped bits of the jewelry back into the back, silver and gold and copper pieces all disappearing into the folds. Strings of pearls, a steel blade, a stone darker than midnight and smoothly polished. Behind her she could hear shouting, and heavy boots thudding along the ground. She cast a panicked look around her, then dragged herself back to her feet. 

She was already running again when she tied her pack closed once more, settling back into her rhythm. 

Several minutes later a hound ran past braying, and behind him, a group of men went running. For a long while, the forest was filled with shouts and whistles and pounding feet.

But when it all had passed, and the sun peeked shyly around its veil of clouds, it found a bit of copper shining brilliantly among the green of the forest. Draped over the jagged edges of a tree stump, a polished pendant hung by a thin chain. Rows of copper beads shivered along its length, each one gleaming like a miniature sun. 

At its end a diamond-and-copper pendant swung slowly. 

It was not the most valuable thing the girl had stolen — copper would never amount to the cost of gold — but it was one thing the jeweler would not be getting back. 

As the forest grew quiet again and the sun climbed higher into the sky, a slender jay flit down to the tree stump to look at the fallen necklace. He saw his own face reflected back to him in the copper polish, eyes glinting as he peered down at it. He pecked at it once, his beak clacking against the metal.

But before he could peck it again, or work to untangle the chain from the wooden spires, a shadow sent him scattering back into the woods.

**Author's Note:**

> origin prompt 2: losing their way
> 
>  **Total word count: 1083  
>  Base Score: 21 AP (Writing: 1083 words)**  
> +50 AP (Origin Prompt)  
> +5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)  
> +8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)  
>  _Total AP per submission: 84_
> 
>  **Base Score: 10.5 GP (Writing: 1083 words)**  
>  +10 GP (Origin Prompt)  
> +6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)  
>  _Total GP per submission: 26.56_


End file.
